November 27, 2014

Greetings, few and faithful. This past week's episode was very amazing! Really enjoyed this season's episodes compared to last season's travesty. To my American readers, Happy Thanksgiving. To everyone else, Happy Thursday! I hope you enjoy this new chapter of...

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Like Falling Stars in February

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Chapter Four

or

In Which a Modicum of Sucrose is Requested Yet Not Procured

If there was one thing that Damon hated it was confrontation. Okay, maybe he liked taking care of the various foes that popped up around Mystic Falls. And okay, maybe he liked needling his baby brother sometimes. And he couldn't deny that sometimes arguing with Alaric was stress-relievi—

Huh. Scratch that. He did enjoy confrontation. That still didn't explain why he was not confronting the witch that was haunting his living room. With his vampiric hearing, he heard her coming a mile away. She just opened his door, walked down his hallway, and was theoretically surreptitiously gazing at his form. Granted, he was just curled up on the couch, low enough that she couldn't see him over the backboard. And it wasn't unusual for the Salvatore brothers to leave the television running on all day. So maybe there was a reason she had been standing there for at least seven minutes. Curiouser and curiouser.

He supposed he would have to be the bigger person and talk. "What do you want?"

"Some sugar." Her heart didn't jump in the way that would have indicated she was surprised. She must have known he had been there the entire time and didn't say anything. And people dared to accuse him of being an Edward Cullen rip-off.

"That's easy to fill." With an impressive flip, he easily vaulted over the couch and into her self-ordained Personal Space. He decided to go with the usual, Piss-Off Bonnie Until She Storms Away in Disgust routine. His nose practically brushed her forehead in feigned affection as he gently put his hand on her shoulder. "Just come into the kitchen and I'll show you around…"

"Nope," she staunchly affirmed, "get it yourself." He knew being the bigger person would suck; despite his best intentions, Bonnie's heartbeat remained annoyingly steady. Instead, her lips were curled in slight amusement. Damn, time to pull out the big guns.

Pout Face, Activated. "Gosh darn it to heck, witchling. I thought you were subtly coming on to me." The hand that was on her shoulder slipped down to her waist. Consequentially, her little smirk disappeared.

"I'm not surprised," she bit out harshly. She stepped backwards and gave his hand a light pat. "Your sense of self-entitlement has always been unfounded." The witch pretended to wipe off where he had touched her with disgust. Ha, the Plan was almost fully complete. Time to wrap up this interaction and have enough time to retrieve his buttery popcorn still being heated in the microwave. These movies weren't going to watch themselves.

"And I thought you had manners." He jumped back on to the couch (Parkour!) and began to fiddle around for the remote. "Oh wait, that was 'unfounded' by you barging into my home. Uninvited." Perfect in execution. It had just the right amount of flippancy and disregard. Once he found the remote, mysteriously lodged underneath the upside down popcorn bowl, Damon began to turn up the volume from its dull murmur. Their usual dance just was not doing it for him today; maybe the stars would be more entertaining.

Despite what the gods usually decreed, even Damon Salvatore ought to be allowed to pout uninterrupted.

"Just because you're bitter that you can't enter everywhere uninvited doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer too." Clearly, the gods decreed that witchy intervention was necessary. Instead of moving toward the door like he predicted, she moved forward, further into his domicile. Like she owned the place, she casually rested her elbows on the backboard of the couch. Cocky. Sure. Could she not take a hint?

He barely glanced sideways at her. "I guess the rules of common decency don't worry you, do they?"

"Funny that you should say that." The remote control that he had left by his side, was quickly snatched, by cunning hands. The volume was lowered. Sauntering, she strode to the farthest piece of furniture from him—the armchair, and sat down. Her phone was pulled out of her pocket and gazed at briefly before shooting off a quick text to somebody.

Despite her seemingly innocent appearance, Damon could smell something rotten in Denmark. Her pose was just a hair to nonchalant, her gaze just slightly too quick to avert meeting his.

Well, the best offense was pretending to be completely oblivious.

"Funny that you're in my house. Neither Elena nor baby Salvatore are here." And wasn't he painfully and horribly aware of it. Well, maybe it was a blessing in disguise; he doubted he could stand to see all the lovey-dovey expressions being exchanged while he was in the vicinity. Honestly, this entire conversation could definitely go in the Pointless Category in the Richter's Scale of Unmanageable…Okay, that metaphor got out of hand quickly. Anyways, even though he knew why she was here and she knew that he knew why she was here, he was still a little surprised.

It wasn't exactly a common occurrence that his wrath was visited upon the innocent townsfolk. It had been weeks since he killed anyone and they had definitely deserved it. So, why the Bennett witch thought that he was going to go plumb-crazy and massacre a lot of people was beyond his scope of reasoning.

"That's fine." She pretended to be uncaring. "Neither of them have to be here to…Is that My Fair Lady on Lifetime?" The witch unconsciously leaned forward to focus on the movie that she had previously ignored. The remote in hand turned up the volume again. He pretended to disregard the decidedly cute way that her attention was rapturously focused on the television. Her ballet shoes along with her scarf were casually tossed to the side in an attempt to get comfortable.

"You're a fan? Of musicals?" Figures she would be into movies that featured people spontaneously breaking out to an explicably well-choreographed song-and-dance. Not that he cared. About what she was into.

"I dabble." Still, best to save that tidbit of information, if for no other reason but to lord it over her head. If the gods hated him, let it at least be known that he was a vindictive bastard to their messengers.

Just as he was about to make some snide comment, the microwave timer went off. Bonnie experimentally sniffed the air and, with glee in her voice, crowed, "I knew I smelled popcorn!" Ha, like hell he was going to. Unfortunately, she chose that moment to burn him with a beatific and imploring smile.

Ugh. He had gotten soft.

"Well, today is your lucky day, the Number Two Salvatore is still available for service." He gave a gaudy bow and skulked to the kitchen.

Her snort and uncharacteristic giggle still followed him. The disconsolate environment of the boarding house seemed to brighten momentarily before settling back into the usual gloom. "Ha. Number two." An uncharacteristic, unnecessary, and evil giggle.

The Salvatore kitchen was very dark. After living in this house intermittently for well over a century, he had the entire floor plan memorized. He skirted the stack of garbage tucked in various locations (Hey! Don't look at him like that! It's not like they needed the kitchen anyway!) to get to the popcorn. It might have been a little easier to get back to his movie if there had been a single clean bowl in the entire room. He decided to settle with the bowl that was soaking in the sink. It was probably clean. Barely dried, he dumped the snack into the bowl.

He entered the room with a practiced gait and purposefully placed the bowl on the edge of the coffee table. He was also able to take back the remote control on the sly. "Careful, I'm rubbing off on you." He sighed then settled back into his spot of the sofa. So, it seemed that the witch really was not going to be leaving anytime soon. Ironic—when he tried to be nice to her, she bluntly rejected his kindness; as soon as he tries to ignore/kick her out, she latches on.

"Eww, please don't ever put 'rubbing' between 'I' and 'you' again. Or ever, for that matter."

"No probs." He made the TV even louder and ignored her rude glare. The vampire stretched his arms until a distinct crack was heard. Then, he feigned continued interest in My Fair Lady. Something wasn't right.

Let's see. He had mercilessly teased and taunted her, just like normality dictated. He had inarguably won all the verbal fencing they had done the past few months. He even blatantly ignored her. She knew that he knew that she knew that….whatever that psychobabble meant. So, why was she still here?

Elena was rarely in this house anymore and even if Bonnie was fond of Stefan, she would never come to visit him in his house. And especially not alone. If anything, she would have contacted Elena to see where the two were and met them there. No one wanted to interact with the surly older brother if they didn't have to. Time to do a little subversive trawling. Damon gave himself an obligatory, precursory sniff, "Do I reek?"

"I'd rather not get close enough to smell you." Eyes were still glued to the screen.

Time to appeal to her sense of politeness. "This couch is big enough for both of us. Here, have a seat. I even have popcorn." He patted the space right next to him and moved the bowl closer to him.

"Wow, you're starting to become a real gentleman."

"Starting to, HoneyBons? Try have always been." He sniffed. "I can't help if you don't notice these things. Actually, I think you're just becoming accustomed to my face." Green eyes gave a perfunctory roll before resuming their attentions to the set. Somewhere in TV Land, a grubby brunette sang a trite song about being "loverly". He had thought that that was the end of their conversation; imagine his surprise when the burgundy cushion beside him poofed with the sound of a human body. At his incredulous look, the witch gave a sheepish shrug. She reached over his lap for the popcorn.

Looks like a falling star.

Like a kid, her elbows were resting on her; Bonnie's head was resting lightly on her hands. Springy hair trembled imperceptibly while its owner flawlessly spoke the lines along with the actors. To be honest, Damon had thought that progress between the two was little and far in-between. When they weren't dealing with supernatural problems, they were dealing with romantic ones. Friendship was generally much farther down the list, not to mention Friendship That Was Not. For Bonnie to put up only token resistance….

They continued to sit in charitable silence as the movie ended. Another one began. And another. And another. No matter what movie came on, Bonnie was able to recite it impeccably. It was only until the musical, The King and I,began and a ballet was performed to the audience of a King and his court that the vampire stirred.

As the memory of a song teased his mind, he unthinkingly asked, "So, Hermione, shall we dance?"

Bonnie sighed, grabbed the remote and paused the movie. "Wait, Hermione? Did you just pay me a compliment? She was an awesome witch."

"Whatever makes you lower your guard—" he leaned toward her side of the couch suggestively. Unlike normal what she normally did, she stood her ground…er, couch. Bonnie Bennett stared him straight in his eye and smiled. Not to be deterred (and maybe slightly annoyed), Damon pretended that failing to ruffle her was his plan all along and snatched the remote from her hand.

"No, no. Up until this point you've only flattered me when you had something to gain from it, either a necklace or Elena's gratitude," she ticked off on her fingers. "That necklace is long since destroyed and she is no longer in the vicinity…"

Right. He unpaused the movie. "By the way, when are—"

"So what could you possibly want from me?" She rudely spoke as he wasn't even talking. Time to reassert himself into this conversation.

"I thought you were brighter than that."

"Huh?" Even with a look of confusion, her already-buttery hands found their way into the popcorn bowl.

"I mean, I've been everything but subtle about it…"

"What…" She paused the television. While she had done grabbed the popcorn, her other hand had been minutely inching towards the remote. Damn, she was good at being sneaky.

"I guess calling you Hermione was a bit of a stretch; she was definitely more observant."

Bonnie hesitated.

"Will you dance with me? We could really jam out to… whatever this musical is about." He couldn't resist adding: "Also, in case you forgot, there's no one else home." His eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

"That was your question? I thought you were more observant than that."

"So your answer is…?"

She leaned in. "Read my lips," she whispered huskily.

"Gladly. Are they The Chamber of Secrets or The Half-blood Prince? You know, I was fond of the light-hearted adventures of a school boy; however, it became tiresome prattle when you are made aware the much darker tone the series takes when Cedric Diggory dies. Personally, I—" his attempts to distract and deflect were misguided; she saw it coming and expertly batted his hands.

"Whatever, Pretty boy."

"Why, BonBon, I think I'm beginning to wear on you—you've never given me a compliment before."

"What? That's not a… God, Damon if you were any fuller of yourself, I swear you would have your own gravitational field."

"Is that witch-speak foFr you saying that you find me… attractive?"

"No, in fact, I think I am going to defy gravity for about… say… an eternity."

"So you're saying this force between us is magnetic? Perhaps even inevitable?"

"About as inevitable as Elena falling in love with you. Oh. Wait…" A slight grin ghosted her face as a cherubic smile met Damon's frown.

"Ouch, Sabrina, that was definitely unnecessary. I don't ever bring up the fact how you and all your witchiness lost a pimpled loser to a dead vampire ghost." He was already a bad week. A witch was friggin' ruining his alone time and the only time he got to watch musicals with wild abandon. It was his alone time to do whatever he wanted to do. And he had never asked for a judgmental witch.

Obviously Bonnie had grown tired as well; her easy smile had disappeared and the face that seemed very sinister to Damon appeared. "AAAAnd, I believed I fulfilled my quota for charity work for this week."

"Charity work?"

"Make that for this month."

"What do you mean?"

"See, it meant a lot to Elena and Stefan to be able to celebrate this weekend without any interference from the older Salvatore brother." She superfluously checked her plum nails. "I promised them my services and, lo and behold, the all-knowing brother is none the wiser."

Backfire. Opening made. Damon for the win. "…Except you just told me. They won't leave me behind that easily." He bounced to his feet. They couldn't have gotten too far. There were only so many haunts inside of Mystic Falls. As he stood up, he checked his pockets for keys.

Like read his mind, she said, "Tell me, do you here the pitter-patter of little feet or smell the constantly dripping diesel oil from Stefan's gas-guzzler? They're long gone. Good luck catching them." Her arms stretched above her heads as she cracked her back.

"Damn it." His palm hit his face. Of course Stefan and Elena left town quickly. They would have known that Damon Salvatore would have preferred to not be…

And what about Bonnie? He had thought it peculiar that the witch had come to his house in the first place. To ask for sugar in a condescending voice was one thing. To refuse to storm away in a hissy fit was another. Clearly he had underestimated her magical abilities to outmaneuver him.

"I know the feeling. Since I've met you, I've become convinced that someone has a vicious vendetta."

"Get out of my house." One hand remained cover his face; the other pointed towards the front entrance of the Salvatore house. He did not have to entertain a tricky guest. Hell, he didn't have to entertain a tricky, uninvited guest. Despite the small amount of fun that he had had, there was a reason as to why he chose to be alone on New Year's Eve.

"Gladly." Bonnie quickly gathered the stuff she unceremoniously dropped off in the house. Her shoes was gathered from the small pile of old bourbon bottles by the coffee table. The scarf rapidly wrapped around her neck. January was still a nippy month. It seemed that he always was causing someone to storm away. And not just Elena.

Besides, she had better things to do than babysit a megalomaniac. Sleep, for instance.

As she turned to leave, a reluctant voice called out, "Wait a minute."

Damon's head blocked a portion of the television giving the appearance of a halo. Resisting the urge to role her eyes at the visual irony, she waited. "Elena would kill me if her best friend got killed by any Tom, Dick, and Harry. You should stay. Just for tonight." Too disgusted, she merely turned to go out the door when Damon jumped into view. He was already blocking the door, taking off her scarf. He somehow managed to herd her back to her spot while not touching her.

"I didn't know you cared." She settled back into her spot.

"I don't." To prove that deep down, in his heart of hearts, that he did not, he turned up the volume and blatantly ignored her. The King and Anna were in a golden ballroom dancing in each other's arms and singing.

Or perchance,

When the last little star has left the sky.

In order to further prove how little he cared, Damon, resolved to clean up the house. At least the living room. The books sprawled across the floor were gathered and put on the bookshelf. Never mind that there was no apparent rhyme or reason to his own Dewey Decimal System. The various wrappers from Halloween candy were tossed into the wastebasket from the kitchen. He considered recycling the bourbon bottles but then remembered he had a brother for that sort of thing.

Shall we still be together
With are arms around each other
And shall you be my new romance?

Everything was as clean as it would ever be; he turned back to the couch. The witch was curled on the couch, her legs clearly crossing the cushions of the couch. Both the popcorn bowl and remote control were on his side of the couch—a clear attempt at sympathy. Drowsy, emerald eyes had a hard time focusing on the Damon and were slowly closing. He suppressed a snicker and sat down for the final time that night, the bowl and control were put on the coffee table as were his legs.

He slightly leaned over to her and asked slightly sardonically (slightly affectionately), "Still want that sugar?" She declined him by promptly falling asleep.

He barely felt how, due to the lack of space on the velvety couch, her toes just barely skimmed his thighs, despite her diminutive height. And he barely noticed how her breaths evened out into a gentle, adorable snore.

On the clear understanding
That this kind of thing can happen,

Shall we dance?
Shall we dance?
Shall we dance?

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If anyone could tell that I have never seen My Fair Lady before—congrats. Love all forms of musicals and couldn't resist putting in one of my favorites. Before I forget, thank you, reviewers! Without your words of encouragement, I doubt that I would have gone as far as I have! I appreciate your support and hope you have a fun rest of November!

Best wishes!